


ignite (ultra-bright)

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [80]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 08:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: “You’redisgusting,” Hermann manages, mildly peeved that the cup, being cardboard, didn’t shatter as it hit the ground. “I see you’re just asdelightfulas I remember.”Newt hums and hops across the Line of Demarcation—not that he’ll admit that he thinks of it as that, especially not to Newton—and pulls out a piece of kaiju…something. Hermann grimaces and, when thethingmakes a revolting squishing noise, spraying [neutralised, thank god] kaiju blue on his papers, decides that he hates Newton Geiszler with a burning passion.Newton laughs. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, dude,” he shoots back.





	ignite (ultra-bright)

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "if your still taking prompts what about this one Hermann knows the difference between genuine distress and Newton trying to convey that he is the saddest most woebegone creature in existence, tragically unloved and desperately in need of cuddles."

“Hello,” says Newt, beaming at him, and Hermann—

Hermann wishes he could say his heart skips a beat, or that the sight of the other leaves him breathless, but it doesn’t. (He wishes it did, though; it might at least partially have to do with the romance novels he was prone to spending hours reading in the tiny library near his hometown in Bavaria, age seven, a brief respite from Lars’ demands.)

Newton’s hand is sticking out, the tattoos that disappear beneath the sleeves of his too-tight button-up garishly bright; jarring. Hermann scowls and pointedly doesn’t take it; watches as the grin slips off his face. “Newton,” he says, stiffly, and then, “you’re…not what I expected.”

“What, as if _I’m_ any more pleased?” snaps the biologist, and shoves his hand into his pocket. "Now are you going to sit down and order something or are you just gonna stand there glaring at me like a dick?”

“ _You’re_ a dick,” Hermann mutters, and reluctantly pulls out a chair, and then, to the waiter, “one coffee, and a cup of tea, please.”

“Fuck you. I can order for myself.”

Hermann hums. “Make that _decaf_ ,” he corrects, and smiles sweetly at the biologist.

Needless to say, they don’t like each other.

* * *

“So,” asks Newton, three years later, the lighting making him look a bit sick and clammy; tattoos peaking out from beneath his collar, “you still take your coffee black?”

“I don’t _drink_ coffee, Geiszler,” Hermann mutters querulously, and scratches the chalk across the board just hard enough to screech hair-raisingly.

Newton scowls at him. “Fuck you too, Herms,” he bites, and ducks out of the lab, down the hallway. Twenty minutes later, he’s back, cup in hand. “I got you tea.”

“You…remembered,” Hermann states, masking his surprise—badly—and sets down his chalk, takes the cup, and drags in a mouthful—

And promptly chokes, sputters, and throws the cup at the wall. Newt grins at him. “Sugar,” he says, gleefully, “payback for ‘17.”

“You’re _disgusting,_ ” Hermann manages, mildly peeved that the cup, being cardboard, didn’t shatter as it hit the ground. “I see you’re just as _delightful_ as I remember.”

Newt hums and hops across the Line of Demarcation—not that he’ll admit that he thinks of it as that, especially not to Newton—and pulls out a piece of kaiju…something. Hermann grimaces and, when the _thing_ makes a revolting squishing noise, spraying [neutralised, thank god] kaiju blue on his papers, decides that he hates Newton Geiszler with a burning passion.

Newton laughs. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, dude,” he shoots back.

“Oh, yes, because _you’d_ know,” Hermann shoots back, bitingly, and doesn’t take notice that there’s a heavy silence before the other turns his radio on full volume.

(Eventually, Hermann cleans the patch of floor where the tea’s dried.

The cup says “for my favourite asshole.”

Hermann wonders, briefly, if stress from existing in the same space as Newton Geiszler will kill him before the kaiju have a chance to do so.)

* * *

So they fall in to it, in the end.

Before the Drift, actually, surprisingly.

It goes something like this:

"I think we should date,” Newt says, spins nauseatingly in the office chair, eyes crossed, and has to grip the arms when Hermann sticks out his cane and brings it to a shuddering halt.

He scowls at the biologist. “We hate each other,” he points out, “that’s a terrible idea.”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate,” Newt repeats; tips his head back to stare Hermann in the eye.

“Hmm,” says Hermann. “That’s a lousy reason.”

“Plus I think you’re hot,” Newt adds, and then, when Hermann’s scowl widens, “I mean, like, come _on_ , dude, I was already in love with your brain—is it really _that_ hard to believe? C'mon, Herms, we’ve got, what—five months? Live a little!”

Hermann purses his lips; unhooks his cane; watches as Newt spins in the opposite direction just as dizzyingly rapidly; finds himself considering the other’s words. “You don’t, though,” he points out. “Love me, that is.”

Newt hums. “Give it a few years,” he says.

[Hermann doesn’t say anything after that. Neither of them do, really.

He does hope, though—he wants that time. He wants a few years.

He thinks, perhaps, he might not mind loving Newton Geiszler.]

* * *

His nose is bleeding; again; the scent of it heavy on his senses—sticky and warm. He scowls; reflection in the mirror scowling back at him; closes his eyes and splashes water on his face. Remembers, in a flash, the bright, bright, _bright_ red sun and the planet blocking light in one spot, like a blight upon an otherwise unblemished field of poppies—

“You’re bleeding again, aren’t you?” calls Newt from the main room.

Hermann’s scowl grows; doesn’t, particularly, appreciate Newt does _this._ “No,” he snaps; watches the water run salmon-pink and then rose; sighs. “Fine. Yes.”

There’s a beat—Hermann watches the water, watches it change from rose to clear; then, the door creaks open further; Newt’s hand on his shoulder. “They’re not going to stop,” he says; quiet; matter of fact.

 _The memories or the blood?_ he almost asks, but, well; he knows Newt means _both._

He closes his eyes and breathes; lets the feel of Newt’s hand settle. “I…” he trails off.

The silence mounts—builds, like tension, and then, thick enough that one can almost cut it with a knife. “I don’t like it either,” Newt says, softly. “And—”

“Don’t say _it,_ ” Hermann cuts in, and then, “…sorry.”

“I’m _not_ going to say it,” Newt snaps.

(His grip on Hermann’s arm is still gentle.)(It’s nice, almost.)

Then, predictably, he ruins it by adding, “Nah, dude, _you’re_ going to say it.”

Hermann shrugs his arm off and shuts the tap off. “I hate you,” he murmurs, without heart, because it’s true.

* * *

There are things that Hermann does not know about Newt—his innermost thoughts, why, exactly, he insists on sitting in chairs without his feet touching the ground; why he’s so _Newton._

Hermann knows the difference between genuine distress and Newton trying to convey that he is the saddest most woebegone creature in existence, tragically unloved and desperately in need of cuddles.

Currently, he’s on the second, staring at Hermann balefully.

“Oh, alright,” he sighs, “come over here.”

Newt happily obliges, curls up against Hermann’s side, sighs. “I like you,” he murmurs, lets out another, nearly imperceptible, sigh when Hermann presses light kisses to the crown of his head.

“I should hope so,” Hermann returns.

Newt pokes him in the ribs. “Jerk,” he says.

“Mm. I love you too,” Hermann says, almost absent-minded, and brushes a fallen strand of hair away from the other’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [three-black-cats](https://three-black-cats.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
